Quotessence
Home / Books / Dear Enemy

Dear Enemy

Book by Kristen Callihan · 47 quotes · Enemies To Lovers Romance, Verbal Salt, Enemies To Lovers

Filter quotes by topic

AllEnemies To Lovers RomanceVerbal SaltEnemies To LoversHot Romantic SuspenseStanding Up For YourselfHot SexMasculine BeautyPillow TalkSexy TalkDelilahFirst MetGirl BossPersonal ChemistryScent Of A ManTater TotsAdult RomanceAphrodisiacBananasBatheBathtub Sex

Dear Enemy Quotes

“Some of us know that looks aren't everything, Con Man." Because that's what he was--- a perfect con, tricking others into believing he should be adored. "Beauty fades, and the ugliness inside you will eventually show." He straightened then, looming over me with a sneer. "I suppose you're one those people who sees past beauty and only loves someone for their personality?" I felt the setup. I just didn't know where it was going or how to avoid it. I thrust my chin high and played it cool. "I am." He nodded as if confirming something only he knew before leaning in close. When most boys back then smelled of an overabundance of supermarket body spray, Macon smelled of cedar soap and do-me pheromones. "Tell me, Tater Tot, is it a beautiful soul you're looking at when you moon over the half-naked-firefighters calendar you have pinned in your room?" All the blood rushed from my face, leaving painful prickles in its wake. Macon's smile was cutting. "I don't believe for a second that you like Hayes for his riveting personality. You act all high and mighty while you're as susceptible to good looks as the rest of us. At least I have the guts to admit it.”

Inner BeautyStanding Up For YourselfScent Of A ManHypocrisy In EveryoneLooks Are DeceivingCalled Out OnesVerbal Attacks
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“I don't need the aggravation of my staff members avoiding each other when the sex goes stale. And believe me, it will." I want to laugh. I want to slap his face. As it is, my breathing comes on quick and fast. "Which means North is really only off limits while I work for you. Good to know." A streak of red spears across the tops of Macon's cheeks, and I swear the man growls. It rumbles in that wide chest of his as his moth tightens. "He's not for you, Delilah. Unless, of course, you're into having Sam's leftovers." As if I've been slapped, my breath hitches. Oh, that was low. Not only to me but to North as well. My face feels tight and hot. And for an instant, something that looks like guilt flickers in Macon's brown eyes, but it's quickly smothered by stubborn self-righteousness and a pugnacious lift of his chin. "Well then," I manage, "I guess that leaves you out of the running too.”

JealousyEnemies To LoversBickeringLow Blow
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Hey Tot, You probably hate that name, don't you? Thinking it's an insult, a commentary about your appearance. Maybe it started out that way, me trying to put you down, put you in your place--- somewhere far from me, where you couldn't make me feel like I was bleeding from the inside out. But I don't think of it that way anymore. It makes me think of you as a hot little bite I want to sink my teeth into. Truth? I'd wanted to do that even when I said the words. I always wanted to sink into you. Didn't matter if you drove me crazy, I wanted it so much it made my teeth hurt.”

LetterEnemies To Lovers RomanceNicknameTater Tots
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“He was horrible to me," I say firmly. Mama waves a hand. "That doesn't mean anything. You know, they say boys are meanest to the girls they like the best." "I hate that saying. Meanness is meanness. To tell a girl that there's some sort of benevolent action behind it all is to say that it's okay for her to be victimized." Mama stares up at me for a moment, then shakes her head. "You're right, pumpkin. I don't know why I said that." JoJo snorts again. Because you and I were raised with 'boys will be boys' tossed in our faces." She sits back in her chair and turns her face to the sunlight. "I say it should be 'dicks will be dicks, and a misbehaving dick deserves a knee to the balls.”

ChildhoodBullyPast Trauma
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“His dark eyes suddenly appear a little boyish. "Can you, ah, put bubbles in?" I grin wide. "You want a bubble bath?" "Hey. The bubbles help keep in the heat, and they smell nice." The man is a good ten inches taller than me, with shoulders twice as wide. The world knows him as a barbarian warlord king-killer on their favorite show. But he is adorable just now. "You don't have to convince me," I say lightly. "I love a good bubble bath." "Do you now?" he murmurs under his breath but then gives me an innocent look when I glance back. He wasn't kidding about his love of bubbles. Multiple bath gels and a nice wide loofah wait on a rack by the tub. I eye it, and he shifts his weight as if being caught out. Not hiding my smile, I pour some gel into the water rushing from the faucet. The scents of bergamot and warm vanilla fill the humid air. It's a subtle fragrance but delicious, like sticking your nose into the warm crook of a well-groomed man's neck.”

Bubble BathHot Romantic Suspense
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Together, we construct the sandwiches, using a blend of muenster, because it was what her mother favored, and provolone, because Delilah thinks it adds a deeper flavor--- and liberally buttering the bread because, Delilah informs me, it's all about the butter. "Now," she says, laying two sandwiches on the hot pan. "Here is where you learn that cooking involves all the senses. Taste, yes. But also sound. Listen. The butter is sizzling. No sound means it's not cooking the right way. The pan is either too low or too hot." We listen to the sizzle. "Sight," she says. "We need to see that beautiful butter hopping and bubbling around the edges of the pan." Dutifully, I watch. How can I not? She is in total command. "Smell." She wafts her hand over the pan, letting the warm scent of browning butter and bread wash over us. "This is more important when you're adding herbs and spices. Does the dish smell as it should? It's something you learn on the way. Flip the sandwiches." I take the spatula from her and do as asked. The bread is perfectly browned. "Feeling. You have to feel how the food is behaving. The texture of it. Now, with grilled cheese, you don't want to cook it too fast, or the cheese won't melt. Hear how the sound has dimmed?" I nod. "We need to add more butter; turn the heat down just a bit." She walks me through the entire process, teaching me to control the heat, baby the sandwiches to get them how I want. All the time our shoulders are brushing, our moves in coordination for a common goal. A sense of calm spreads over me. I'm not thinking about work or the outside world. I'm not angry or empty. I'm filled up. I'm here, with her. We get the sandwiches on plates, and she hands me a knife. "The best part. Cutting it open." Her brow wings up in warning. "Only cut on the diagonal. Down the middle is a sin against grilled cheese." "Please," I say, with feeling. "As if I'd sink so low." I make the first cut and am rewarded with a fine crunch of sound, followed by the ooze of gooey cheese. Perfection. "Taste. Take a bite," Delilah urges with childlike excitement. I take a bite. "Close your eyes," she says. "Tell me what you think when you taste it." You. Me. Delilah wearing braces, her thick hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that highlights the roundness of her face. Her gold eyes glaring at me from opposite her mother's kitchen table. Home. Safety.”

CookingSensesButterChildhood MemoryKitchen RomanceGrilled Cheese Sandwiches
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Rest back again." He does and then groans when I start massaging the shampoo into his hair. The sound goes straight to my core. I work slowly. Slower than I should, but it feels good to have my hands on him. My fingers glide over the hard curve of his skull, down to the thick cords of his neck. "God," he whispers. "Please don't stop." His muscles are so strong here that it hurts my fingers to dig in, but his noises of pleasure and the way he leans into my touch keep me going. Foam rinses around my hands; water trickles down the tan column of his neck to wander over the hills and valleys of his wide-set shoulders. My lips swell with the need to follow those waterdrops, press against his wet skin. I bite the inside of my cheek. Macon sighs, his lids lowering, and I move closer, my breasts hitting the back of the tub. I push along the rise of his shoulders. They're like silk over granite, slippery wet and warm. He grunts, and I do it again. He leans into my hands, whimpering softly. I take the moment to rise and turn on the taps again. We don't speak as I rinse the shampoo from his hair. It's a strange thing, taking care of him this way. I'm turned on--- more than I thought I could be. It's a low hum in my body, the lush swelling of my breasts, of my sex. It's in the painful tenderness in my nipples and the sensitive edges of my lips. I want to savor him like I do fine dark chocolate, letting each bite melt on my tongue, lingering over the delicious taste of it.”

MusclesMassageIntimate ActHot Romantic SuspenseBathe
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“I want a dessert." She turns and starts wiping down the clean counters like it's her new mission in life. "I'll go to the farmers' market and get some ripe fruit." "Not. Fruit." Fact is, I can't eat a mango anymore without wanting to suck on Delilah's tongue. "Something rich and sweet and creamy." And now I'm thinking about sinking to my knees before her. Behind the kitchen island, I reach down and adjust myself. Having zero experience with flirting, I don't think I'm doing a proper job of it. I'm only getting myself riled up here. Especially since Delilah's expression remains deadpan. "I don't think any of that is on the approved list." "I think you bring up that damn list to annoy me, Tot." "This is true." She doesn't bother to hide her glee. Like a bee to nectar, I drift closer. "Come on, Delilah. Cheat with me. Just a little?" Shaking her head in clear exasperation, she tosses the cloth into the sink and faces me. "All right, just this once. Name your poison." She isn't in my arms. My mouth isn't on hers. But it's still a victory, and I rub my hands together in anticipation. "Let's see... oh, God, the choices. Your Totally Toffee-Chip Cookies? Your Mad Monster Chocolate Cake?" I stop to think of all the desserts Delilah has made over the years. "Ah. I know... Bountiful Banana Cream Pie.”

DessertsSexual Hunger
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“No, this is what I'll remember for the rest of my life. The first sight of Delilah's breasts. I've dreamed about them for far too long. My first wet dreams were about them, how they might look, feel, taste. I knew nothing. She is full and ripe, the skin paler here, delicately capped with dusky-honey tips. It gets me so hot I'm shaking. My hand cups their soft, plump weight, and she shivers too. I want to say something like "Finally" or "What took us so long?" but all that comes out is the most important thing. "You're beautiful." Her lids flutter, her breath hitching when I rub the tips of my thumbs over her silky nipples. Those sweet buds tighten, and it's all I can do not to swoop down and suck them hard. As it is, I tweak them, and she keens. The sound goes straight to my dick. "Get in my bed, Delilah. And get comfortable, because you aren't leaving it anytime soon.”

BreastsForeplayBoobsPillow TalkHot Sex SceneTits
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“With the oysters, I'm at the shore, swimming in the heat of the day. She serves us baby cream biscuits and smoked peach butter that taste exactly like those we'd eat around her mother's table during a Sunday dinner, only better, tweaked in a way that makes me want to taste it again and again. Buttermilk panna cotta with spot prawns and spring vegetables pulls me right into lazy picnics in Delilah's backyard, when we'd gorge on plump peas, sweet tomatoes, crisp cucumbers. The tender shrimp and tart buttermilk--- all of this is our childhood on a plate. I never wanted to look too closely at that time, but it's slapping me tight in the face. Oddly, it doesn't hurt. Not this version. It feels fragile and rare, like I should be protecting it, like I should be proud of where we come from and who we are. And then the menu changes on me. The servers bring out what Delilah says is butter-poached cod with potato galette and shellfish emulsion dotted with petals of mango and peach. It is the clean taste of the sea; it is buttery velvet along my tongue, bright bursts of juicy fruit. Underneath it all is a crisp, airy version of what is essentially a gourmet tater tot. The taste is erotic. Heat and lust wash over me in a wave that has my balls clenching and my cock stiffening. I can't figure out why. Then it hits me like a kick to the chest. This dish is us. Frantic kissing on the beach, eating juicy mangos at the market, peaches and tater tots. She's created us. A compilation of all she holds dear.”

StorytellingChildhood MemoriesFood LoveAphrodisiacSouthern FoodCompilationsTater Tots
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“You should listen to your assistant. She clearly understands about fattening foods." Her tone is not kind. And I'm done being polite. Or quiet. I turn to North, who is sprawled back in his chair, blue eyes alight with undisguised anticipation. An ally I desperately need. "Tell me something..." "Anything, babe." I kind of love him just then. Because I know, I know, he's calling me babe to irritate Macon. It's in his eyes and the way his mouth twists to hold back laughter. "Do agents in this town take Cliché Bitch 101 classes around here?" A muscle in his lower jaw twitches while Karen huffs out a sound of annoyance. "Pretty sure they offer a special discount at UCLA." We both grin. "All right," Macon cuts in. "That's enough." I shoot him a look. Tell that to Ms. Sunset Boulevard. And he returns one of his own. Behave. Make. Me. His answering grin is crafty. "Later." "Later for what?" Karen demands in a snit. "To perform my other services." I dab the corner of my mouth. Because fuck her. Macon chokes on a sip of his water. North, however, just laughs, a big booming sound. "I like her," he says to a glowering Macon.”

Verbal SaltBitchySex JokeKarenFat Shaming
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Damn that man. Damn his six-foot-two canvas of tightly packed muscle and unfairly gorgeous obsidian eyes. Damn him for not staying in the mold of ex-enemy and current employer but insisting on blurring the lines and upending my nicely ordered world. God, I nearly moaned when he wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt, revealing the hard slab of his lower abs. Lord, but he's beautiful, nicely defined but big and strong. A fighter's body. My mouth went dry at the sight of the V and those glorious abs, swooping down and disappearing behind the low line of his sweats.”

Enemies To Lovers RomanceMasculine BeautyShirtless
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“With a noise of want, he cups my breast, then leans over it. His mouth is hot and wet, and I groan, arching into him as he sucks my nipple in deep. He releases me with a long satisfied lick and then does it all over again. "Macon..." It's a plea. For more, for it everywhere. He seems to know this because he looks up at me from beneath the fan of his lashes as his wicked tongue flicks over my other nipple. "It's my turn to play." Play he does, suckling my nipples until they're swollen and stiff and gleaming, then rubbing the flat of his fingers over the sensitive tips--- a slow, heavy circle. The action is so lewd, so basely sexual, that I writhe and moan against him, my leg hooking over his trim hips in an attempt to bring him over me. But he resists, his focus all on me. He makes his way over my body, learning every curve and hollow--- gentle little kisses of shuddering pleasure, slow wet kisses of greed. When he gets to the rise of my hip bone, he pauses. His big hands settle over my thighs, gripping them lightly. His gaze, dark and hot, meets mine. "Spread these thighs, Tot, and show me what I've been dreaming about for far too long." Slowly, I open to him. I feel the exposure in the soft stretch of my inner thigh muscles, the cool rush of air against my wet sex. My breasts jiggle with every shuddering breath I take. Macon's attention is rapt. He licks his lower lip, and I clench deep within me. With a groan, he lowers his head and kisses my pussy like a man deprived of air. Pleasure jolts through me, hot and sharp. I writhe against that slowly questing mouth of his. He fucking feasts, and I can't help but put my hand on the back of his head to hold him there, urging him to take more. God, the feel of his tongue sliding and searching; my clit becomes so swollen and sensitive I'm half trying to get away. But he won't let me. The sight of his broad shoulders between my legs, the fan of his lashes shadowing an expression of sheer greed, has me teetering on an orgasm. He stops to place a soft, firm kiss right on my clit like it's something he has to do, this bit of utter affection at the height of his lust, and I fall. Arching against the bed, I come and come. Macon kisses me again, his hand soothing my quivering belly in gentle circles, then rises to hover over me. "Of all the flavors you've given me," he says roughly. "That was my favorite." God. I lick my dry lips, my breath catching. "You can have a taste anytime you like.”

Hot SexCunnilingusPillow Talk
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Stop giving me those sexy eyes." "Sexy eyes?" He chokes on an incredulous laugh. "You're looking at me like you... you..." His eyes gleam with wicked intent. "Want to stick my head between your things and slowly lick you until we both come?" A strangled sound leaves me as a pulse of pure lust hits my sex. I want to touch myself, press against that ache to relieve it. "Macon..." "Because that's what I'm thinking half of the time," he goes on levelly. "When I'm not thinking about kissing your soft mouth or easing up your top to finally-- fucking finally-- see those gorgeous tits." "Macon!" "Delilah," he shoots back with cheek. God, I want him to do all those things and more. I want to strip him down, lick his warm skin. Lick him up like ice cream melting off a spoon. Why did I say anything about going slow?”

Enemies To Lovers RomanceSexy TalkPillow Talk
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“The sound of my heels clicking against the floorboards bolsters my spirits. Grandma Belle used to say that a woman wearing her best red heels and favorite red lipstick can accomplish anything. There is some truth to her words. When Grandma Belle donned her red pumps and a glossy coat of Dior Rouge, she fairly glowed with an inner confidence that reduced men to obedient puppies. While I do not possess the classic beauty of Grandma Belle, nor do I think Macon Saint will ever act anything close to an obedient puppy, I do admit to feeling a bit more powerful in my red suede Jimmy Choos and Ruby Woo lipstick.”

High HeelsRed LipstickGirl BossRed ShoesConfidence Boost
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“I might have walked away, let it go. But she whisks her shirt off, revealing a tiny sixties-style bikini top and that body with curves for miles. She is glorious, her peachy ass swaying as she drops the shirt like a dare, then saunters to a lounger. Yeah, I might have let it go if she hadn't looked back, a quick glance as though to make certain I was still there. I'm still here, honey. And I'm not going anywhere.”

Adult RomanceCurvy Heroine
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“You're staring at my boobs." Her tone is wry but somehow not insulted. "I am aware." I should be sorry, but I'm not. "I'm staring at your peachy butt, too, if we're being totally honest here." "Macon." I glance up at her. "Your body is fucking luscious, Delilah. Bitable in the best way possible. A juicy peach, a sweet apple covered in caramel. Do you know how much I'd kill for a caramel apple right now, Tot? And me stuck on this hell diet. It's a torment, I say." "I don't think this is very professional," she says weakly. "I should hope not." God, I love teasing her. Her whole body lights up when I do it. Foreplay. Does she realize that's what we're doing? "I was just thinking---" "What did I say about you thinking?" she warns. "They don't look like bananas now, Tot." "Oh my God, you're terrible." But she's grinning now. Fighting damn hard not to show it, but definitely grinning. "More like peaches. Ripe, juicy peaches." She sways in my direction before catching herself doing it and shifting her weight. "You called my butt peachy." A dry complaint. "My boobs can't be peaches too." Maybe I have a thing for peaches." Somehow, we're only a foot apart, the space between us humming with something. It licks over my tender skin, tickles the back of my neck. Take it slow, Saint. She's skittish. Back off. My body resents this greatly and strains toward her warmth. Her voice is a thread, drawn tight. "You're still staring." "Paying proper respect," I amend quietly. "You don't ignore a body like yours. It would be rude." "Pretty sure you have that backward." She's breathless now, her glorious breasts rising and falling with agitation. I lean down, take in the warmth of her scent. "Come on, Tot. I've grown up, seen the error of my ways. Give me your bountiful banana pie." Again she sways into my space, laughing softly. "Pervert. You're not getting any pie from me." I hum, heat and need making my head swim. "But I have this craving." She's whispering now. "Disappointment can be character building." "I'll need my strength for that. How about peach pie?" Kiss me, Delilah. Or let me kiss you. I'm not picky. The pulse at the base of her tanned neck visibly beats. The scent of her skin is like honey. "I thought you wanted banana cream," she says, a dazed look in her eyes. The tips of my fingers touch the collar of her shirt. "I don't think pie is what I want anymore.”

Enemies To LoversBananasPeachesSexy TalkFood And SexPersonal Chemistry
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“I want to move." Delicately shaking, slickly sweating, I strain against Macon's bulk. It's no use; he has me pinned to the chair, his cock thick and pulsing deep inside. And not fucking moving. He grins down at me, a drop of sweat trickling down the side of his flushed face. "Not yet." Slowly, too damn slowly, he circles his hips, stretching me, making me ache. "I need to come," I whisper. Whine. Plead. It's all the same. Every inch of me throbs. Pleasure is a tightly drawn bow within, and I need that snap of release. His grin fades, replaced by intention. "You will. When I'm ready." "Sadist." He nips my earlobe. "You love it." I shudder as that glorious dick of his eases out, making me feel every hard inch, only to slowly push back in. Too fucking slowly. I'm writhing on him, and he loves it. Dark eyes glint as he works me. Naked in the sun and sprawled on an armchair that barely holds us, he's been fucking me with a steady deliberation designed to drive me out of my mind. And though I'm a pleading, panting mess, I love it too. God, he's gorgeous. Endless muscle and tan skin beaded with sweat, flush from exertion. His expression is slack, hazy with lust. It sends licks of pleasure along my skin. Panting, I reach up and touch his jaw, trying to draw him near. He complies, dipping his head. Our mouths meet in a lazy, deep kiss, an exchange of air, messy exploration of lips and tongues. He groans, shivering. Not unaffected. Just so very good at torturing me. In. Out. Pull. Push. "Macon," I whisper into his mouth. "Please. Fuck me." He freezes, and then with another groan, all that power and need breaks free. I can only hold on as he goes hard and deep. The chair scrapes along the floor as he pounds into me. Every thrust impacts my swollen, sensitive sex. Pleasure builds and builds until I'm keening, my eyes closed as though I can somehow hang on to the feeling forever. But it breaks over me in a shimmering wave. Macon's teeth clamp down on the meaty curve of my neck, not hard but holding me there as his thrusts turn rapid, a greedy chase of his own pleasure. It's so animalistic and unexpected that another orgasm slams into me with unexpected power. I lose track of myself, of him. My fingers claw at his back, thread through his hair. I'm struggling to get closer, get more. He comes with a great shout, his big strong body straining against mine.”

Hot Sex
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“And he fucks with such greedy relish--- sucking at my skin, thrusting into me with deep grunts of pleasure--- that I feel adored. But in the end, he rolls onto his back, taking me with him. Stretching his arms overhead, he grasps the headboard. "Ride me, Delilah. Take what you need." All that power laid out before me. The high crests of his cheeks are flushed. Sweat trickles down his temples. Every inch of him is hard and tight with lust. I sink down onto his cock, and we both groan. I take my pleasure, luxuriating in his body. I don't let up until he's groaning and crying out my name. We come together, falling into each other, wrecked. Nothing will ever be the same again.”

Hot SexFuckingEnemies To Lovers Romance
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“That's twice you've played your little lord-of-the-manor card." I grin, having fun. "What was the promise? Oh, right. The third time I do so, you make a jerk-off gesture?" Delilah sets a hip against the back of North's chair as she faces me. I don't like the proximity of her butt to his head. At all. But she's smirking at me with those pouty lips. "Let me save you the trouble." With her free hand, she makes a loose fist and pumps it. The gesture is expected, but not the bolt of heat that punches through my gut and goes straight to my cock. Fuck. I can practically feel her hand on my swollen flesh, the tug she'd give me. Biting back an internal groan, I give her a lazy smile. "Looks like you've had some practice with that, Tot." Practice some more. I'm here all week, willing victim. She doesn't blink. "I'm multitalented, Con Man." "I just bet you are." My dick is rapidly rising, getting heavy in my pants. Hell. Calm yourself, Saint. The request is easier said than done. She's locked eyes with me, unwilling to back down. And she has no idea what she's stirring up. It isn't anger I'm feeling. I'm in so much trouble.”

Enemies To Lovers RomanceTurned OnErectedVisually Pleasing
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“I called my hairstylist to book an emergency cut and color. Okay, maybe, it's vain, but if I have to drive all the way out to Macon's place by myself and somehow convince him not to press charges, I need to look as good as possible. So here I am, hair beautifully styled and angled just so around my face with pretty caramel and golden highlights designed to make my nut-brown hair look sun kissed. I went full out at the salon and had my brows shaped and a mani-pedi as well. Yes, I am guilty of primping, but it's not vanity; it's war paint. One does not go into battle without armor. To that end, I put on my favorite short-sleeve cream knit top that clings in all the good places but flows around my less desirable spots and an ink-blue skirt that hugs my hips and gently flares around my knees. Maybe it's overkill, but at least I look put together yet no nonsense. Unflappable. Professional.”

Girl BossDressed To KillWar Paint
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Why do men pretend that they're not in pain when they clearly are?" "Because we don't like being fussed over," he answers with a small smile. "See, that's the strange part about it," I say, cupping my latte. "Men love being fussed over. I've never heard so much whining as when a man is sick." A gleam of challenge lights his eyes. "You're missing the key factor." Macon sets his cup on the table. A bit of creamy foam clings to the corner of his lip, and he licks it away with the tip of his tongue. "We only do that when we expect our women to kiss and cuddle us, then tuck us into bed." I blame the steam from my latte for the hot tightness over my cheeks.”

Enemies To Lovers RomanceSexual Suppression
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“I slip my hand beneath the warm water. He's hot and thick and fits against my palm just right. A low, tortured groan leaves him, and his head falls back against the tub edge. Gently, I work him. And he takes it, his expression almost pained. He's panting heavily now, flushed along the cheeks as his hips begin to rock helplessly in time with my strokes. The sight is so patently sexual, so insanely hot, that my sex swells and slicks. I press my legs together to alleviate the pressure. My hand moves up and down his long length, a steady rhythm. "Is this what you needed?" I rub my thumb over his tip on the downstroke. "Me tugging on your big cock?" "Oh, shit," he whispers, his throat working. "Oh, shit. Delilah... I..." His wide chest hitches on a caught breath. The tips of his fingers turn white as he grips the edge of the tub. He's tensing, all those finely wrought muscles clenching. I jerk at his cock, squeezing a bit harder, going a bit faster. "You needed it, didn't you?" "Yes," he says, panting. "Fuck yes." Macon's eyes close, his brow pinched. He licks his lips as he moans--- whimpers, really. That I've reduced this strong, stoic man to this quivering mass has my head spinning. I want to crawl in the damn tub with him. Sink down onto this beautiful dick and take him. But this time is for him. "Are you going to come for me, Macon?" At the sound of my voice, his eyes snap open. The heat in them sears me. "You want to see me come, Delilah?" "Yes." His lashes flutter. "Then make it hurt, honey." The next downstroke has the water frothing. I give him no mercy, pumping him, pulling on his cock as he grunts and thrusts. He's panting, his straight brows knitted in a look of near pain, but he keeps his gaze on me, silently begging for more. "You're beautiful," I whisper, squeezing his shaft. His nostrils flare as his hips lift, and a long, agonized groan tears from him. He comes in a fine arc over his chest and sinks back into the water with a shuddering sigh. I gentle my hold but stay with him until he is limp and replete. We fall silent until suddenly Macon moves, grasping the back of my neck to haul me close. His kiss is quick but messy, like he's all wrung out but needs to convey how much he liked what I did. The dark fringe of his lashes are clumped and wet from his bath as he stares into my eyes. "Thank you." He kisses me again to punctuate the sentiment.”

Hot RomanceHand JobBathtub Sex
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Every time I set eyes on Macon Saint, the reaction was visceral, a punch to the solar plexus. He was gorgeous, sure, but it was his eyes that did it. They burned as if he could strip the skin from my bones and rip right into the heart of me. Mama always said I was fanciful with my words, but that was the truth of it: locking gazes with Macon was like forging into an angry storm. You'd come out of it weak, breathless, and a little bruised.”

EyesIrresistible Man
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Tater Tot is not a nickname," I snapped. "It's an insult, and you're welcome to have it." "No." She shook her head, sending her straight hair over her shoulders in a glinting wave. "I'd need something else. Something to signify our deep connection." I held in my gag admirably, but I found myself speaking without forethought. "How about 'Mirror'? Since you both love gazing into them." As soon as I said it, I knew it was unkind. Sam's pretty face flushed bright pink, and she launched herself from the foot of my bed. "Sam, I didn't mean---" "No," she cut in sharply. "You said what you said. You know, Saint is right; you can't help but pick people apart." "Excuse me while I choke on the irony," I shot back. "Always with a joke," Sam said, even though I hadn't been joking. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Your problem is that you don't know how to play the game." "The game? Life isn't a game." "Bullshit. It always has been and always will be. Smile whether you want to or not; compliment the people in position to help you or have your back." She counted her points off on her fingers. "When everyone assumes you're the sweetest, most helpful or honest person in their world, they'll let you get away with anything." "This is what you think I should be?" I cut in. "A fake schemer?" Sam shrugged then. "Fake or not, it's how the most successful people get ahead. They plot, forge alliances, and they execute their plans." "If that's success, then I want no part of it. I'd rather fail and have a conscience.”

Verbal SaltMorality And Free Will
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Don't pay any mind to Delilah. Our grandma Belle calls her ornery." Which is why I liked Grandma Maeve better. Sam's cute nose wrinkled then. "I think that just means grumpy." The nasty boy looked at me from under the inky fringe of his bangs when he answered her. "It does." I blew a raspberry. "Stating an opinion contrary to others isn't being ornery; it's called having a working brain. Sorry you two don't know anything about that.”

Verbal SaltStanding Up For YourselfFirst Met
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Macon's amused voice drifts over me. "You can relax now. I'm decent." Decent. Ha. Nothing about the picture he makes is decent. Arms resting on the sides of the tub, bubbles frothing over his tan chest, he looks like sin. His pecs are large and prominent and lightly furred with dark hair. A bubble dangles from one of his tiny nipples, and I have the urge to touch it. A smug smile remains in his eyes as, with a long groan, Macon relaxes against the tub. His injured leg is propped on the far side of the tub, exposing a good length of massive thigh. From beneath lowered lids, he looks at me. "Thank you for helping." So meek. So deceptive. So damn tempting.”

Sex AppealMasculine BeautyNaked Man
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“His voice pours over me like hot syrup. "Doesn't matter what I say, does it? I could tell you that watching you suck on that juicy bit of mango was one of the erotic highlights of my life. That I want to lick the pink, pouty curve of your lower lip to see if it's sticky sweet." Gently, he touches the swell of my lip, and I feel it deep within my sex. "Such a pouty fucking mouth," he whispers. "Always frowning at me with that plump lower lip." I. Cannot. Breathe. I am flush with fever-bright heat. And it is all Macon's fault.”

Enemies To Lovers RomanceSexy Talk
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“I'd recognize his face anywhere. I used to see it in my nightmares. Though older, his features haven't changed: the same sculpted cheeks, square jaw, and bold, high-bridged nose. The same well-shaped lips that manage to appear both uncompromising and wonderfully soft. He still has a freckle at the corner of his right eye. On a woman it would be called a beauty mark. And yet this Macon is something entirely different--- willingly showing me pieces of himself that aren't perfect. I want to ask him why his family weren't themselves, why he felt the need to play a part. But it's clear that regret for speaking too freely is creeping up on him, his gaze darting around as though he'd rather look at anything but me. Wherever he wanted to or not, Macon gave up a private piece of himself. One that I doubt anyone has ever seen. I feel... humbled.”

Enemies To LoversOther SidePersonal Chemistry
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Scents waft from the kitchen, dancing around the halls to find me and tickle my nose. Warm and comforting and mouthwatering. "Come closer," those scents seem to say. "Come see what we have for you." Come. How can I ignore that? So I don't. I follow the siren's call and find the siren herself at the very center of activity. Delilah moves with utter confidence in her kitchen--- because it is unequivocally hers now. This is a prima ballerina performing a solo. Not a fast-paced, frantic dance, but slow and easy, controlled power in motion. Knowing that she hasn't yet noticed me, I simply watch her work, admiring the curves of her body as she reaches for a spoon to taste a sauce. The pink tip of her tongue flashes as she licks her lush top lip. Something hot and tight clenches low in my gut at the sight. Then she's moving again, adding a spice to her sauce; a flick of her wrist controls the temperature on the stove. My body remembers the feel of hers, the way she cuddled up in my lap for those few mindless minutes. I was surprised enough that she did it. I simply held her, afraid to make any move that might startle her away. She was warm and soft, her tan skin smelling of butter and cinnamon sugar. I wanted to sit there all night and breathe her in. I wanted to let my hands roam over those plump curves and learn each one. It was an act of careful coordination to keep her from noticing just how much she affected me. It was worth the painful dick and the aching gut of lust because in that moment, she felt perfect. She turns back to the center island and the cutting board there and sees me. The loose-limbed ease of her body dies. She's all twitchy now, eyeing me like a feral barn cat as if I might try to lash out and catch her. Tempting.”

TemptingSexual DesireDelilahIn The Kitchen
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“Put your hands on me; get comfortable with being close to me, taking what you want. Nothing is off limits." Oh, God. I want that. He is acres of smooth, slick skin and rippling muscles. I'd touch him all night and then lose my ever-loving mind. "How is that not sex?" "Because it's only you touching me." His gaze glides over me like liquid silk. "Do you want to?" The breathy "Yes" is out of my mouth before I can think. His nostrils flare, the look in his eyes pure temptation. "Then touch me, Delilah.”

Hot Romantic Suspense
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image

“His lips brush mine, and then I'm the one surging forward, meeting his mouth. Or maybe we move together. All I know is that we're kissing as if it's sweetly painful, like we've waited so long it's almost too much to bear. And it's so good. So very good, the feel of his mouth flowing over mine, learning the shape of me as I learn the shape of him. He makes a noise deep in his throat, a protracted groan, a needy request for more. Liquid heat pours over me, my mouth opening to his. He tilts his head, his tongue sliding in for the first taste, and I slowly break apart beneath him, my mind going hazy, my body on fire. God, I need more. I need everything. There's no more hesitation. No more careful touches of tongue to tongue, lips softly questing. Just base hunger. Macon kisses me as if he's parched, his jaw wide, tongue thrusting deep, so deep. I arch against him, held down by his chest, his fingers grasping my hair. That small bite of pain drives me frantic, kicks my lust up. We become hot breaths, nips, licks, small wordless sounds. He's surging against me, hard cock moving over my sex, grinding into the tender swell of my clit. And I wrap my leg around his hips, wanting more. The action shifts our positions, and the thick crown of his cock notches against my opening. It feels so damn good I moan into his mouth, my hips pushing up on him. He shudders, suckling the plump crest of my bottom lip, and rocks into me--- only the barrier of his sweats and my bikini keeping him from entering. But it's enough. Enough that I feel that fat head pushing and nudging there but leaving me unfilled, empty. My muscles clench sweetly, wanting relief, needing more. I slide the flat of my tongue against his, whimpering, undulating against him. He groans long and pained, his whole body moving with his stunted thrusts. We're going at it like sweaty teens, dry fucking each other in the sand. And I don't care. I want his clothes off. I want mine gone.”

First KissBeach Side RomanceDry Humping
Book:Dear Enemy
Create image